Chapter 25
Travis
"Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer," Knox insists for the third time, waving the DVD like its evidence in a court case. "It's the perfect Christmas show."
"That’s for five year-olds, Knox," William counters from his position by the entertainment center, methodically organizing our movie options into categories I'm sure only make sense to him.
"That’s what makes it perfect!" Knox's voice rises to that pitch that means he's ready to die on this hill. "Santa and magic and learning to believe in yourself—"
Carina laughs from where she's curled on the couch, still glowing from our walk in the snow. Her cheeks are pink, her hair slightly mussed from the impromptu snowball fight on the way back. She looks perfectly content, and something in my chest loosens at the sight.
"What about The Holiday?" she suggests. "I love that one."
William makes a face like he's bitten into something sour. "That movie is emotionally manipulative drivel designed to—"
"Make people feel things?" Knox interrupts. "God forbid."
"I was going to say exploit seasonal sentimentality for profit."
"Everything exploits something for profit," I point out. "That's capitalism, Will. I’m sure you’re familiar with the concept."
He gives me a look that suggests he’d like to throw something at me. I’m surprised he hasn’t throw a DVD.
"What about you?" Carina asks me. "What's your vote?"
"White Christmas," I admit. "I'm a sucker for the classics."
"Of course you are," Knox groans. "Let me guess, you have a whole speech prepared about the golden age of Hollywood?"
"I have thoughts," I say with dignity. "But I'm willing to be democratic about this."
"Since when?" William mutters, still reorganizing DVDs.
"Since always. I'm the peacekeeper, remember?"
"You're the one who pretends to be the peacekeeper while secretly manipulating everyone into doing what you wanted anyway," Knox corrects.
I clutch my chest in mock offense. "When have I ever—"
"Tuesday," William says without looking up. "When you got us all to agree to Thai food by casually mentioning how good it sounded until we all ‘coincidentally’ wanted the same thing."
"That was a gentle suggestion, not manipulation."
"Last week," Knox adds, warming to the theme. "When you wanted to rearrange the living room and somehow convinced us it was our idea."
"The feng shui was off—"
"And literally this morning," Carina chimes in, her eyes sparkling with mischief.
I open my mouth to protest, then close it. "That was for the greater good."
"So is watching Rudolph," Knox says immediately. "Greater good, Travis. Think about it."
"Nice try." I shake my head. "But we need a fair system. Otherwise, we'll be here all night."
"Straws," Carina suggests. "Short straw picks the movie."
"Longest straw," William corrects. "Short straw implies losing."
"Only if you have a negative mindset," Knox says. "Which, granted, you do."
"I have a realistic mindset."
"You have a fun-sucking mindset."
"Boys," Carina interrupts, though she's clearly fighting a smile. "Straws. Now. Before I pick for everyone and make you watch my choice regardless."
"What's your choice again?" I ask, already forgotten what she said two minutes ago.
She grins. "I’ve changed my mind. I want It's a Wonderful Life."
Knox groans so dramatically he nearly falls off his chair. "That movie is three hours of depression with five minutes of happy ending!"
"It's a beautiful story about community and how one person can impact so many lives," she defends. "And it makes me cry every time in the best way."
"Alright, straws," William declares, producing a handful from somewhere. Of course he just has straws readily available. Probably organized by length and color in a drawer labeled 'Decision-Making Tools.'
We each draw, and I can tell from Knox's immediate grin that he thinks he's won. But when we compare, Carina holds the longest straw.
"Ha!" She does a little victory dance that involves more wiggling than actual dancing. "It's a Wonderful Life!"
"I've never seen it," William admits as I queue up the movie.
Carina and I turn to stare at him in unified shock.
"You've never seen It's a Wonderful Life?" I can't hide my disbelief. "It's a classic. A cornerstone of American cinema."
"I don't watch movies that predate color film as a general rule."
"It's from 1946," I argue with him. "Not the Stone Age."
"Might as well be," Knox says. "Will thinks anything before the internet is ancient history."
"I've never seen it either," Knox adds, seemingly just to make my head explode. "Old movies are boring."
"You're boring," I counter maturely.
"Your face is boring."
"Your mom is—"
"Popcorn!" Carina interrupts brightly. "We need popcorn. And hot chocolate. And more cookies. I swear I’m going to turn into a sugar cookie."
Twenty minutes later, we're settled on the couch with enough snacks to feed a small army. Carina's in the middle, naturally, with William on one side and Knox on the other. I'm on William's other side. It's become natural now, this easy physical closeness between all of us.
"No talking during the movie," Carina warns as the opening credits roll. "This is serious cinema, people."
"She says about a movie where a man wishes he was never born," Knox mutters.
"Shh!"
I've seen this movie probably a dozen times—it was Grandmother's favorite, and she made us watch it every Christmas before she passed. But watching it with them, seeing it through their eyes, makes it feel new.
Knox is predictably restless for the first thirty minutes, fidgeting and making quiet commentary that earns him multiple elbow jabs from Carina. But when George Bailey's life starts falling apart, he goes still. I glance over to see him completely absorbed, his hand finding Carina's unconsciously.
William is harder to read, sitting with that perfect posture. As George's frustrations with being trapped in Bedford Falls mount, I see something shift in his expression. Recognition, maybe. Or understanding.
"This is horrible," Knox whispers when George yells at his family. "Why is this a Christmas movie?"
"Just wait," Carina promises, squeezing his hand.
By the time Clarence shows up, we're all invested.
Even William leans forward slightly when George sees what the world would be like without him.
The parallels aren't lost on me—how different our lives would be without each other.
If Carina hadn't walked into that interview.
If Knox hadn't saved her from the spice mix-up.
If William hadn't finally let his walls down.
If I hadn't decided that unconventional love was worth the risk.
"Oh," Knox breathes when George runs through Bedford Falls, desperate to get his life back. "Oh, I get it now."
Carina's already crying, tears streaming down her face as George realizes how rich his life really is. I reach across William to hand her tissues, noting that William's eyes are suspiciously bright.
When the bell rings and Zuzu delivers her famous line about angels getting wings, Knox completely loses it.
"Every time a bell rings, an angel gets his wings," he repeats, voice cracking. "Fuck. That's—why would you make me watch this?"
"Because it's beautiful," Carina says through her own tears.
I glance at William, who's blinking rapidly and definitely not crying, no sir, just some dust in his eye probably.
"You okay there, Will?" I ask gently.
"Fine," he says, voice only slightly strangled. "It's just—he had everything. The whole time. He just couldn't see it because he was so focused on what he thought he should want."
The weight of that statement hangs in the air. We all hear what he's really saying. About control, about perfection, about nearly losing us because he couldn't see what was right in front of him.
"Yeah," Knox agrees quietly. "He did."
The credits roll, and we sit in comfortable silence for a moment, processing. Then Knox announces, "Next year, we're definitely watching Rudolph."
"Next year, we draw straws again," Carina says firmly. "Fair is fair."
"I'll rig the draw," Knox mutters. "Travis, teach me your manipulative ways."
"I don't manipulate—"
"You absolutely do," William interrupts, but he's smiling. "Remember when you convinced me to hire Carina by making me think it was my idea?"
I blink. "That was completely your decision."
"Travis." He gives me a look. "You sent me her resume three times."
"Coincidence?"
"And then you suggested I test her with an impossible challenge because you knew I'd be impressed when she succeeded."
Okay, he might have a point. "I merely presented information—"
"You manipulated him!" Knox crows. "Travis, you beautiful manipulative bastard!"
"Language," Carina chides, but she's grinning. "And thank you, Travis. For whatever gentle manipulation led to this."
"Best manipulation ever," Knox agrees, pulling her in for a kiss.
I start gathering empty bowls and mugs, needing something to do with my hands. The movie has left me feeling raw, open in a way I don't usually allow. All these feelings are too big for my carefully maintained equilibrium.
"Leave those," William says. "We’ll do them in the morning. Or have the staff do them."
"Since when do you leave dishes?" I ask, surprised.
"Since it's Christmas and I'm trying this new thing called 'letting go.'" He stands, stretching. "I'm heading to bed. Today was..."
"Perfect," Carina supplies.
"Exhausting," he corrects, but fondly. "But yes. Also perfect."
Knox yawns dramatically. "Same. I need to sleep off all these feelings. Who knew Jimmy Stewart could make me cry?"
They drift off to their rooms, and I finish tidying because someone has to, and old habits die hard. When I finally head upstairs, I find myself pausing outside Carina's door. There's still a light on under the crack.
I knock softly. "Carina? You awake?"
"Come in," she calls.